


A Edo Story

by Akemichan



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: (with some inaccurancies tbh), Alternate Universe - Historical, M/M, Ninja!Keith, POV Shiro (Voltron), Samurai!Shiro, Sheith Secret Santa 2018, Shiro (Voltron)-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-24 20:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22004167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akemichan/pseuds/Akemichan
Summary: Sendak released a low, bitter laugh. “I have a job for you.”“I don’t work for you,” Shiro replied. “And you have enough, real shiny samurai to do it for you.”“Not this work.”Written for the Sheith Secret Santa 2019!
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 27





	A Edo Story

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ThatScottishShipper](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatScottishShipper/gifts).



> This is my Secret Sant of this year!  
> I wrote this story for my first recipient, who wanted something about SamuraiShiro and NinjaKeith, but unfortunately, they dropped the event.   
> I hope you will enjoy it nevertheless, ThatScottishShipper! I hope you all enjoy it.
> 
> I took some inspiration for the plot from the beginning of "Six of Crows", which is one of my favorite books. Give it a try if you have the occasion!

When Shiro left the tavern, it was pitch dark in the street of Edo. The light came out from only a few windows, and the cloudy weather didn’t let the stars or the moon enlighten the air.

It wasn’t a problem for Shiro.

The battles at night he’d faced taught his sight how to see behind the dark cloud, and he didn’t have enough saké in his body for his senses to be occluded. His geta walked steadily in the mud ground, his eyes widened opened. His only arm was still placed on the white hilt of his katana, Atlas, a present for his master, with the peculiarity of his black blade.

The first samurai appeared at the corner of the street, full armor on. The purple sash identified him as one that followed the daimyo of Edo. He didn’t move, and Shiro ignored him, without slowing down his path. The samurai’s gaze was on Shiro's back, but he didn’t follow him. Not until another one appeared at another corner, on the opposite side of the street. He acted as the first samurai, letting Shiro surpassing him before following him.

Shiro wondered if they’re stupid, or if they believed he was the stupid one. It was clear they intended to corner him and he wasn’t surprised when two other samurai blocked his path in a spot of the street where there was no escaping route.

He stopped and smiled, friendly.

“What can I do for you, gentlemen?”

They didn’t answer, and Shiro didn’t expect them to. They came closer to Shiro from their four corners and draw their swords. Shiro didn’t pull off his own until the first one attacked. Their blade clashed, Shiro’s one was almost invisible in the dark.

Still blocking the blade, Shiro moved on the side to avoid the attack behind him. He sent one flying with a kick on the chest, made falling another with a kick on the legs. He pushed back his first attacker and blocked the blade of the fourth one and disarmed him.

They all were fast to recover, and the dance began again. Shiro wore only an old, light yukata, while they have their solid armor. They had a clear advantage, even Shiro knew he couldn't beat them all.

But the more they fought, the more Shiro realized they didn’t aim for the kill. Their hits were sloppy, trying to avoid any critical spot, and they focused more on Shiro’s blade than other parts on the body they could hit.

Curious, Shiro let his katana fall on the ground after a stronger hit. He asked forgiveness to Atlas for that, and even more when one of the samurai picked her up.

Shiro fell on his knees after one of the samurai hit his side with the hilt of their katana. They tied up his only hand to his back so he couldn’t move it and then placed a rough sack on his head. He grunted as they forced him still and dragged him forward.

The streets of Edo weren’t unknown to Shiro, but it wasn’t easy for him to follow their hushed steps and understand the path at the same time. He still got the area of the city by the different smells from the suburb they were before and by the distance they covered.

Once they made him sat down on a chair and tied his torso to it, they removed the sack, and Shiro wasn’t surprised to find himself at the presence of daimyo Sendak.

He wasn’t paying attention to Shiro, as he unleashed Atlas and rolled the katana in his hand, admiring the fine working of it.

Shiro’s eyes moved a little on the side: the four samurai were still there, two at the door and two next to the window. Sendak’s office was in one of the highest palaces of Edo, near the royal palace, but the city through it looked like a dark, dangerous sea.

“That’s mine,” Shiro said, once his eyes returned to Sendak.

At first, Sendak didn’t answer, neither he moved his gaze on Shiro. With care, he put back Atlas on his sheath and placed her on his desk. Only then, he turned his attention to Shiro.

“It’s a well-made sword, as expected from altean blacksmiths,” he said, soft. “It’s wasted in the hand of a ronin.”

“As a present from my master, it would be a dishonor to discard her.”

“Your master is dead.”

“I don’t think he planned that,” Shiro smirked. “Did you invite me here to reiterate the obvious?”

Everyone knew Shiro was a ronin, the only survivor of the Altean army after Emperor Zarkon had defeated the last daimyo that’d opposed him, Alfor of Altea. Mostly expected from Shiro to kill himself under the shame of not having able to protect his master, and they shamed him for being still alive.

He lived mostly in the shadow, far from the attention of Zarkon’s plan for Japan. They tolerated his presence because he was the living proof of what happened to people that opposed the Emperor.

Of course, Shiro knew that they could decide to kill him whenever they wanted, but it wouldn’t require such an elaborate plan, so he wasn’t worried.

For now.

Sendak released a low, bitter laugh. “I have a job for you.”

“I don’t work for you,” Shiro replied. “And you have enough, real shiny samurai to do it for you.”

“Not this job.”

“Oh?” Shiro purred.

“Don’t let your ego overcomes you,” Sendak almost growled. “It’s a rat's job, it suits you.”

“Flattery won’t bring you anywhere.”

This time, Sendak looked amused by Shiro’s humor. “I like your spirit, Shirogane. I wish you were born on the right side of the war.”

“I think I did,” Shiro replied. “Now, I wouldn't ever waste the precious time of our dearest daimyo, so, what about this job?”

Sendak crossed his arm and leaned a little on his perfect wooden desk. “Next week, at the port of Nagasaki, a Dutch ship will arrive. Its name is ‘Castle of Lion’ and the captain is a certain Coran Smythe.”

“Should I have heard of him?”

“Not really.” Sendak shrugged. “He isn’t the brightest of his people. But he prides himself to be a traveler, so he’s often around, and his goods are appreciated. And I’m interested in his next load.”

“Couldn’t you buy it? Being the daimyo of Edo should bring some advantages.”

“It did.” Sendak smiled. “But this load isn’t for sale.”

“What is it? Come on,” he added, “I can’t steal it if I don’t know what is it.”

Sendak hummed. “It’s been said Coran has previous contacts with Alfor.” His eyes were on Shiro, to study every small reaction. “And that Alfor delivered him a special package before his defeat, to keep it safe. And now Coran is bringing this package back, surely intending to use it against us somehow.”

“What is this package?”

“Nobody knows for sure. But it’s Alfor’s, so it may be dangerous.”

“I don’t understand why are you saying me this,” Shiro comments, and he was sincere. “If it’s something so dangerous for the Empire, you can give orders to confiscate the ship as soon as it arrives at the port.”

And then Shiro understood.

“But you don’t want the Emperor to know about it.”

“I am loyal to the Emperor,” Sendak growled, teeth bared.

“But not to his son Lotor,” Shiro replied. “This is a matter of power, a matter of having the right leverage against the future Emperor and the other daimyo.”

“It’s that brain of yours that put you in danger, Shirogane.”

“I thought it was my good-looking aspect.”

“I want you to go to Nagasaki and steal that package for me. Can you do that?”

“I can,” Shiro said. “But I won’t.”

Sendak didn’t expect that. “May I ask why?”

“Do you expect me to bring to you the last remnants of my master? For real?”

“Your master is gone, and that package won’t bring him back. You’re too intelligent to believe at the legend that his daughter survived at the fire of his castle too,” Sendak answered. “But you’re alive, and I can make you rich. Have finally people stop looking down at you.”

“If that matters to me, maybe I would have killed myself earlier.”

“I can give you Arus back.”

The statement made Shiro’s confidence faltered a little. His mind returned at a period of his life when he had a master and a dignity. A period where the green land of his family prospered and him being a samurai was a matter of honor and not a stain of shame.

Yes, Sendak would have the power to give back to Shiro his land.

“My answer is still no,” Shiro said at last. “I’m a ronin without a master, which means I can decide by myself.”

“Don’t be stupid, Shirogane. This can be a lifesaver for you.”

Memory of the night after the battle. Alfor's last battle hadn't been kind to any of them. Shiro had been, of course, on the front line, and he'd killed more men in that night than in his entire life. He'd taken more hits than in his entire life. He'd believed he would have died there, lying on the ground in the middle of the dead bodies of friends and foes alike. 

But he hadn't died.

Salvation had come, with blue eyes and raven hair.

The night Shiro'd lost everything, and the night he'd got someone back.

“Someone else saved me already, and it’s not you.”

Sendak took a deep breath. “Pity he wouldn’t be here to save you again.” And under Shiro’s gaze, he added, “what, do you expect to let you free now that you know about the package?”

He moved towards the door and, before leaving, he addressed his samurai. “Kill him.”

Shiro closed his eyes, to focus on himself and regularize his breath. In the dark of his thoughts, he could hear clearly the slow steps of the samurai as they surrounded him and the sound of their katana lashed out.

He opened his eyes and used his legs – bad mistake not having them tied up. He stood up and threw himself back at one of the samurai. They fell on the ground, and the force of the fall and Shiro’s body destroyed the chair Shiro was tied to.

The splinters pierced Shiro’s back, but he didn’t have the time to rest. He rolled on the side to avoid the blades and at the same time, he freed himself from the remainder on the chair. With his foot, he drew nearer the katana of the unconscious samurai. With it firmed in his left hand, he jumped still and shielded himself.

He stepped back to keep his back as possible against the wall, so they couldn’t hit it, but it wasn’t easy to fight with a katana that wasn’t his own. He had to move aside to avoid the three swords at the same time and managed to kick out of the way one of them.

Another followed him and this time Shiro was ready: he eluded the slash, then kicked his leg to distract him before trusting his sword inside his chest. He didn’t wait for him to fall but recollected back the sword. He turned, ready to face the remain two, only to find them already dead on the floor.

Keith was there, with his dark clothes and the bottom half of his face completely covered. He pulled out his knife from one of the samurai’s neck.

So Sendak was wrong. _He_ was there to save Shiro again.

“How long have you been here?”

“Since the start.” Keith stood up and took Atlas from Sendak’s desk. “I guessed where they were bringing you and I anticipated them.”

Keith came from a skilled ninja family, Shiro knew that much, and he saw Keith’s skills in action many times. At that point, he believed he had enough ability to see through Keith’s action and individuate him nevertheless. 

Instead, Keith kept being a shadow presence behind him.

He passed Shiro the katana. “Better go, Sendak may suspect something once he realizes his samurai are late.”

Shiro nodded. He learned fast the street Keith’d used to reach Sendak’s office, a street made of walking on the ledges and jumping from roof to roof. They didn’t talk, not until they were back to the suburb of Edo, a place familiar to them, where they could avoid Sendak’s samurai that surely he would send for them.

“Thank you for saving me,” Shiro said.

“That’s what I’m here for.” Keith freed his face and smiled. He returned serious. “What are we going to do?”

“We need to leave, as soon as possible. Sendak can’t let me live, after this.”

“I was taking about Alfor’s package.”

Shiro stopped. “I want it,” he confessed, both to himself and Keith.

Keith didn’t look surprised. “It won’t be easy. Sendak will definitely try something, and the Dutch are very careful with their goods. Do you want to call the others?”

“We may need them, yes.” Shiro nodded. “As soon as we’ll find a safe spot, we’ll try to send them a message. We can meet directly in Nagasaki…” He blabbered to himself.

“Shiro,” Keith murmured and placed a hand on his shoulder. “We’ll make it. You’re the damn best samurai of the Empire.”

Shiro smiled at him. “I know. And I’m glad I have the damn best ninja to guard my back.”

Keith turned around his face, a little embarrassed.

“Let’s go.”


End file.
